


Mask's Of Gold, Mind's Of Stone (But Heart's of Lead)

by Im_A_Terrible_Person



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angels, Awakenings Of Subspecies, BTW not my characters. not my idea. J.K Rowling owns everything but the story, Bottom Tom Riddle, Demons, Dumbledore Is A Control Freak, Everyone Is A Dick To Tome Riddle, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/M, Fuck Canon, He Lied...So Much, He's Not A Fuck-Up for Nothing, House Elves, I Keep The Characters I Like, I like him, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Tom Riddle, Murder, POV Harry Potter, POV Tom Riddle, Past Sexual Abuse, Past physical abuse, Rebirth, Religous People Are Dicks To Tome Riddle, SO SORRY, Sane Tom Riddle, Sex, Soulmates, The Orphanage Was Dicks To Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom Had It Rough, Vampires, Werewolves, Why Does Nobody Look At His Past, Young Tom Riddle, bitch, holy shit im too lazy to post regularly. i am, look - Freeform, past emotional abuse, really - Freeform, so fuck you, sorta - Freeform, this is my world, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Terrible_Person/pseuds/Im_A_Terrible_Person
Summary: When Voldemort 'dies', something remarkable happens. Instead of dying, decaying, wasting away, his carcass melted away to reveal a... boy. He looks around their age. But, why is his hair white? Why, when he opens his eyes, are they ruby and haunted and confused? Why does he have a tongue that made silver look coarse?And most of all, why does he know things that most have never heard of?





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading stories, and this idea popped in my mind. Expect sporadic updates and odd ideas.

Voldemort's body was laid out in a separate room. Nobody mourned him. When Harry went in to see his body, it wasn't to ask him why. He was planning on doing...something. Anything.

When he saw Voldemorts skin ripple, then start to pool off of the table like water, his wand was out. He didn't call for help, instead opting to watch it. It melted into whiteish pink goop. Then, whatever was underneath somehow cast some sort of cleaning charm. Harry tensed, before the sight before him registered.

Pale. Skinny. Colorless, yes, but it had hair. Messy and fluffy, whiter than bone. A simple button up and slacks, muggle clothing. The person didn't move. Harry moved closer, cautiously, and waited. The boy's chest moved up and down, slowly. Harry examined him further. The boy was thin. Thinner than Harry thought possible. Every bone was prominent, even the slightest ridge was stark and exposed. Veins were a dark contrast to his almost translucent skin.

He appeared albino, but Harry wasn't sure. Who was he? _How_ was he? What was he doing _inside_ Lord Voldemort?

After a while, he calmed down enough to rationalize. Should he try to get somebody? Frail Dumbledore, recovering from his near-death experience? Severus Snape, who had just regained consciousness? Hermione? Ron? Or, maybe, even Malfoy?

Then, the boy's eyes snapped open, revealing eyes so unnaturally red Harry was concerned. Then, the familiarity of those eyes hit him and his wand was there, poking the boy in the chest. The boy looked... blank. That was, until Harry caught his eyes.

Haunted. Hurt. Guarded.

Then, the boy shoved the wand away, sitting up and swinging his concerningly thin legs over the side of the still-gooey table.

"Would you mind telling me where I am? And, perhaps, who you are?" The boy said smoothly, face not betraying the tiniest hint of panic, though his eyes were terrified.

"Hogwarts. Who the bloody hell are you?" Harry said.

-

Hogwarts?

Why on Earth was I back at Hogwarts? After I had renounced it, leaving to roam the world in solitude, all he could remember was... Dumbledore was there... and then... blank.

The boy had a wand brandished at me. Wait... where was my wand? Who was this man...boy...whatever? Why was I on this table, in... the 'holding' chamber? It was where important meetings were held, immediately important objects, and occasional prisoners.

Where was Dumbledore?

"My name is James Fullard. Why am I on this table?" The boy lowered his wand slightly. Ah, the simplicity of a good lie.

"Why were you inside Lord Voldemort?" I snickered. Voldemort? That was, safe to say, the most ridiculous name I had ever heard.

"Why are you laughing?" The boy was now relaxed.

"Lord Voldemort? I'm sorry, it's just that is the most preposterous name. I have absolutely no idea why I was inside of him, my good sir. Could you, kindly, tell me who you are?" I asked, folding my hands complacently.

"Harry. Harry Potter." Ah. A Potter; blind followers of Dumbledore. An enemy, not a confidant.

"If you would help me off this table, I'll be on my merry way," I said. Smooth. Non-threatening.

The boy hesitated. Then, he held out his hand, helping me down off the table. I concentrated on my wand, willing it back to me. After a few minutes of me regaining my balance, it finally whooshed into my pocket. Silent. I cast a simple Disillusionment Charm, slipping out of the room. The boy, Harry, seemed to be just realizing his mistake.

I left the castle, unperturbed, until the sounds of alarm went up.

I wonder...

I stopped my retreat, slipping back into the castle. I found my way back to the infirmary. It was full, most of its occupants asleep. There was a single candle lit, illuminating a haggard old face. Half moon glasses. Watery blue eyes that showed his arrogance. Dumbledore was old now...which meant he cast some sort of charm on me, that cold August night.

His eyes found me. A cocky smirk curled his thin lips, and he crooked his finger. I drifted over.

"What happened?" I asked bluntly, standing at his bedside like a forlorn family member.

"You betrayed your destiny, Tom. I couldn't let you do that. I forced you into the form you were supposed to take. I'm guessing that once that persona I created for you was killed, you came back to life." Oh. Dumbledore, selfish as always.

"...What year is it?" I asked.

"Currently? 2002." I forced my mask into place. 

"Thank yo-"

"Oi, you!" A voice broke through the tranquility of the infirmary. Dumbledores expression turned to serene.

It was a redhead, and he didn't bother asking questions. A quick ' _Petrificus Totalus!_ ' and he was dragging me through the halls like a common dog.

Really, I just wanted to get to Gringotts and get out. Everyone was likely completely under Albus' control. From the way they introduced themselves, complete lack of manners, no Status (you were, if telling the truth, supposed to present your Status as Alpha, Beta, or -ugh- Omega), and no idea of their subspecies! This was, safe to say, amazing work. Terrible, maybe, but still incredible. What spell could the old, batshit Omega have used?

That thought was wiped from my mind as I was, unnecessarily, shoved into the Great Hall. Okay. Recollect... They, obviously, had no clue what anything was passed what Dumbledore told them. If it was my 'destiny', he probably implanted a moral compass unlike my own, and I fulfilled it, died, and now the prophecy was over. They, however, didn't know that.

"Who _are_ you, 'James'." Harry seemed annoyed. Ah, aversion to being lied to, angry at lack of control. Likely an Alpha. The redhead seemed like a Beta, and that was really all that mattered.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Most call me-"

"Voldemort." I smirked. Ah, ignorance. Such a powerful tool.

"Actually, most people call me Marvolo. Marv. Something like that." They seemed surprised.

"Really? Erm... Hermione, would you...?" A bushy haired girl, Hermione, started digging around in her purse. She turned up a bottle of clear liquid, likely Veritaserum. Harry took it without hesitation, walking over to my paralyzed form. He forced my mouth open, dumping the contents of the vial down my throat.

Alright, then. Time for an information dump. 

"Is all of what you said before true?"

"No." He tensed. 

"What did you lie about?" 

"Nobody calls me Marv." 

"Are you the Dark Lord." I had to think on that. 

"No," 

"Do you _want_ to be the Dark Lord?" 

"No." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"Travel abroad. Learn foreign magic. Get as far away from Dumbledore as possible. Punch the senile Omega in the face." Harry looked confused. 

"Omega? What's that?" 

"Status. Submissive." 

"What in bloody hell are you talking about?! Erm, elaborate." 

"Status. There are three Status'. Alpha, Beta, and Omega. Alpha's are dominant, Beta's are neutral, Omega's are submissive." 

"How do you...know your...'Status'?" 

"Test at Gringott's. Ask your vault for 'Status Test: Intitiate' and it will provide your subspecies and your Status." 

"Okay, hold on a moment. Subspecies?" 

"Secondary species, such as angel, archangel, demon, devil, Born Vampire, Born Werewolf, fairy, elf, etcetera." 

"...What's your subspecies?" 

"I don't know." 

"If I were to let you go right now, what would you do?" 

"Leave as soon as possible." 

He undid the spell, and I got up. Veritaserum would wear off in a bit, I suppose. Students flinched away from me, as if I was going to hex them into next week. I shook my head in exasperation, ignoring the muttering, the shouts of protest, the 'He's evil, you twat!' that echoed through the halls. However, it was inconsequential. 

True to my word, I left. Pushed open the door to feel modern air. Stalking the familiar grounds, changed ever-so-slightly. Apparating as soon as I stepped foot off the grounds.. To the front of Gringotts. The goblins recognized me, recognized the spell. They didn't hate me. They were too intelligent for that. Too intelligent for Dumbledore. I took the cart down, relieved to see my vault was still there. 

However, my vault was mostly empty. Gaunts had gone rather broke towards the end, so most of it was just treasures. Priceless, at Borgins and Burke's. I stood in the center of the huge, mostly empty room. It was cold, it was musty, and it was mine. 

"Status Test: Initiate." 

Gears whirled, magic hummed, and then there was a table emerging from the floor, a simple marble slab with a piece of parchment and a quill, simple and black. I approached, leaning down to get a better view of the words scrawled on it. 

'Two Droplets.' were the only words on it. I pricked my finger with the quill, letting two dark drops fall onto the parchment. The quill lurched forward, soreading the blood into an impossible ink. It spelled out three words. 

'Born Vampire; Omega.' 

My world came crashing down. Omega's were submissive! Giggling, whining, needy. I was none of those. Omega's wore skirts and panties and had children. Omega's were weak. I was supposed to be an Alpha! Not a blithering, stupid, Omega! Omega's had mates! All of them! 

I collected the treasure, too enraged to even feel the pain that coursed through my body as it awakened. I finally calmed myself down enough to put the mask back in place, analyze. Omega. If I culd get my hands on suppressants -illegal- I could survive. No heat, and all I'd have to do is beat down my submissive nature. 

Ugh, this ruins everything. 

My plans? Up in smoke. Omega's were required registration after registration, a bit of hair and blood in case an Alpha came in, looking for it's mate. The Department wasn't part of th eMinisty, so it was likely unaffected. However, it was notified as soon as this happened. They'd likely have an administrative officer at the door when I left. I finished, closing the drawstring bag that held far too much for its appearance. 

<>I took the cart back up, stepping off of it in a daze. My Omegan side cowered, as it smelled Alpha's in the room. Other children were coming up, all newly awakened. Strongest of all was the scent of pine, a hint of marigold and vanilla.An Alpha, but an Alpha that commanded other Alpha's. Fuck me... My Omega wanted me to lower my head and cower. I, however, chided it and walked like I normally did. However, I soon heard it.<>

"What's that smell?" Oh, bollocks. It was Harry's voice. My Omega cooed. I mentally slapped it. 

"Dunno what you're talking about. Can't smell anything but you, at the moment." Redhead's voice was dry. Hermione, the brunette, chided him. 

I hurried out, only to hear someone following. I sped up, walking past confused onlookers, past shops. However, it caught me before I could go down Knockturn. 

"Hello there." Soft. Ew. An Omega, likely mated, and that voice made me wonder if he thought I was confused. 

_I turned to see a man, with soft blonde hair, friendly blue eyes, and he was so bloody short and feminine it made me cringe. He was, unsurprisingly, wearing a flowery white dress with soft pink roses all over it, a white cardigan, and dainty white heels._

__

___"Let's get this over with." I muttered. I grabbed his arm. He yelped, surprised, before Apparating us. To the front of a nice three story house somewhere in Ireland. The boy led me inside. There was an Omega at the front desk.She smiled softly._ _ _

____

_"If you could please sign-" I grabbed the clipboard. There was a three-page document, registering myself as an Omega. I breezed through it, reading every little line. I found something in the fine print._

____

_"I'm sorry, I don't agree with this." I showed her what I was talking about._

____

_'Once the Omega's mate discovers the mating bond, the Omega must complete the mating.'_

____

_"Are you sure? Me and Jake here are both happily mated and-"_

____

_"I am sure. I don't want a mate."_

____

_"Okay. Here, it has been adjusted for you." It was, luckily, and I signed it._

____

_"Follow me, please." Jake led me towards the back of the house, up a flight of stairs, and into a room. It had a floor-to-cieling glass window that revealed a beautiful garden, a chair, a small mobile table, a set of cupboards, a file cabinet, and a desk. I sat in the chair when prompted, let him take my blood, write down his information, take a clipping of my hair. He filed me away, cast a spell on the blood to prevent coagulation. I filled out the rest of the paper work, all of it. Adjusting it so a mate wasn't required for everything._

____

_Then, I left. Just as the other people, the students who I had notified, started shuffling in. The woman seemed delighted to have customers. I didn't particularly care._

____

_At the very front of the line was Harry Potter. He looked at me, and then his eyes glowed gold. Ah, he was an angel. Maybe Archangel, maybe not. He didn't move to follow me, and was led into the back by Jake, My Omega reached out for him, wanting to tuck itself under his arm and purr. I scoffed, leaving the building as fast as I could, pausing when I reached the boundary._

____

_I stared up at the sky. Where would I go? What would I do?_

____

_Bulgaria? No...China? Thailand? Australia?_

____

_America. I would go to America. Land of the Free, right? I could probably make a living over there, with my intellect and skill, and it would be easy to confound someone into giving me a place to stay. I'd go from there. It would be a challenge for me, after I had just come back_

____

_Just as I was about to apparate, but the sound of heavy, angry footsteps made me pause. Curse you, Omega._

____

_I was tackled to the ground by a very angry Alpha. Gold eyes, messy black hair, The sight of a possessive Alpha made the Omega want to expose it's neck, surrender. I, however, had different plans. I called on my new vampiric powers to try and shove him off._

____

_He didn't budge. I was embarrassed to realize the Omega had started to slick, just from that, and stilled._

____

_Harry didn't seem to know what to do. His Alpha, however, did. Harry buried his face in my neck, scenting me. The Omega purred, trying to get me to relax, accept it. Then, all at once, Harry pulled back. His eyes were once again a startling green. He stared down at me, a little hurt and a lot angry._

____

_"You. Do. _Not_. Run. Away. From. Me." He snarled. The Omega happily agreed, prepared to curl up in his arms and relax and pretend nothing was wrong forever, as long as it got to be near its Alpha. _

____

_"Says who?" I replied. I caught him off guard, flipped him over, and quickly Apparated all the way to King's Cross station. They had a special platform, one that went in a tunnel and came out wherever. America to China, Baghdad, Russia, Alaska. Anywhere. I got myself a ticket, and lazed around the station. I was fascinated by everything around me. When the time came to finally get on the train, I was excited, much like a small child. Had trains changed, in the wizarding world?_

____

_"Tom! Stop!" A voice called. It was panicked, angry. I knew it was Him._

____

_I ignored the pathetic whining of my Omega, got on the platform, and stepped onto my train without looking back._

____


	2. Regret and Surprise is an Odd Combination in America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um...
> 
> CinemaSins and music inspired this chapter. I don't remember which.
> 
> It's a chapter. I WILL finish the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, this was written with over 48 hours of sleepless misery.

I wondered what would have happened if I had stayed. All likely scenarios include some form of a one night stand, ending in me fleeing as soon as I could to escape from...

Something.

Now, I was enjoying myself. I had traveled throughout America and was currently in Alaska. A refreshing reprieve from society. However, that was ruined. On one of my supply runs into town, I saw someone that was vaguely familiar. Redhead. Older, as I had been in America for a few years. He was talking to a very attractive, exotic looking man. In America, there was news from the British Isles.

Redheads name was Ronald Weasley. He was best friends with Harry. Where he went, Harry was either ahead of him or not far behind. Hermione, however, was the new (and much better) Minister of Magic. Which meant I would have to leave as soon as possible.

I grabbed my supplies from the faded drug store. There was a rather terrible alcohol section. I went up to the muggle working the counter, Confounded her to forget I was here, and left.

At least, that was my plan. I was halfway out of the town, relaxing slowly, when I crossed in front of the local inn. That was my greatest mistake. I was just past it, planning what to do in my tent (drink myself to sleep) when I was dragged to the side and Apparated.

Now; surprise Apparating was nauseating. More so than a regular Apparation. I bent over, dry heaving slightly. A hand rubbed my back. For the first time in months, my Omega awakened, cooing and whining. It wanted me to lean into the hand, turn around and cuddle and purr. I wanted to, but I still had dignity.

The hand suddenly dug its fingers into the fabric and suddenly forced me upright and around. I stared into eyes, achingly familiar as they haunted my dreams every night. Flickering between green and gold. My Omega was clawing at my subconscious, forcing me to tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck.

Harry snapped.

His face was buried in my neck, pressing against the scent glands. My eyes fluttered closed against my will. It was like my instincts were shut off if they didn't involve him.

"Don't. Run." Harry's voice shook. I sighed.

My Omega was happy, though, so I let him maneuver me over to a bed. We were in the hotel.

He laid me down like I was a child, and started tenderly removing my coat. My scarf. My third and second pair of pants. My shoes. My socks. I was a little embarrassed when he reached for my shirt. He noticed.

And then, he was kissing me. Lips pressed against mine, insistent but sweet. I automatically kissed back, a hand coming up to run shakily through his hair. He deepened the kiss, turning it messy and needy. I hated the natural submissiveness, but I had to admit it felt good. He pulled away, going down to kiss my neck, swiping his tongue over the scent glands to make them release pheromones. I knew my eyes were glowing, red and warm and powerful.

His hands slipped under my shirt, brushing over my stomach before resting on my torso. He kissed away my resistance, relaxing me...

Enough to snap something in place around my neck.

I pulled back, giving him a confused, probably dazed look. I reached up to touch my neck and panicked even while a bolt of intense pleasure rushed through my body when I felt a collar there. Harry gave me an apologetic look, holding up a remote.

"I'm not letting you leave this time."

I frowned.

"And how do you expect to keep me here?"

"This can reach you, wherever you are. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Leave." My Omega whined, sad that its Alpha was displeased with it. I forced my impassive mask into place, before rolling over on the bed, pulling the covers up, and forcing my eyes closed before any tears could slip free.

Harry sighed. There was a rustling of clothes, the bed dipped, and then Harry wrapped an arm around me, coaxing me onto my back., then to curl up on his chest. I sighed, mildly upset, but it eased my Omega enough to let me sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any advice or comment is appreciated, rude, cruel, mean, or otherwise.


	3. Deception is Necessary (According to Dumbledore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom escapes. Only to be almost-captured by an annoying wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom is a genius. Harry isn't. Really, it's not surprising.

I woke up early. The lack of a headache, usually welcome, made me nervous. I had been rather upset last night and had planned to get absolutely smashed, cry myself to sleep, and wake up in horrible pain. The fact that I wasn't was concerning. I looked around, the situation coming together before my very eyes. I had been kidnapped, seduced-oh god, stupid Omega- and fallen asleep.

Harry had his arm wrapped around me, possessive. I snarled at my Omega until it stopped purring, and wriggled away. He tried to follow me, half-awake. As soon as I could, I Apparated to my campsite. The shock of the temperature change made me stumble, crashing into a pine and having snow drip down my embarrassingly almost-naked body. I dove into my tent and looked around for a spare outfit.

I used wandless magic, as unpredictable as it was, to pack all of my belongings into a backpack. I pulled on my jeans and decided I'd just have to live without a shirt. Then, I considered my options. Where would I go? I hadn't been to...well...

I had been to every single state. Including Hawaii. Actually, I would go back to Britain. It would be rather tiring, but the Leaky Cauldron was a great place to stay. With my destination in mind, I Disapparated with a sickening crack. I stumbled, reappearing on the Diagon Alley side of the Leaky Cauldron. Oh, right. I was exhausted, collared, and half-naked. Wizard-kind gave me the barest of glances. I got into the... establishment, registered under Warren Kinji, and retired to my room. Before I fell asleep, I put up several wards to keep unwanted parties out, and me in.

Then, I fell onto my bed and passed out.

-

When I woke up, there was someone banging on my door. 

"Tom! Let me in!" How the bloody fucking hell did he find me so- oh, right. The collar would be rather useless without a tracker. I woke up further and listened a bit closer to the words.

It wasn't Harry. An amazing interpretation of his voice, yes, but not him. I arose from my bed, summoned a shirt, and strode towards the door. I was hesitant, concerned about who my assailant was.

I opened the door anyway, revealing a smug Hogwarts Headmaster. He tried to grab my- oh wait, he actually grabbed my arm. The wards must have collapsed while I was asleep. 

In a split second, some flashy spellwork and a bit of decent hand to hand had Dumbledore on the floor. He groaned, eyes narrowed with anger. His wand dangled loosely from my fingers as I smirked down at him.

"That's a terrible way to say hello, Albus," I said, examining his wand. Ah, the Elder Wand. A powerful, heavily coveted artifact. That, and, it was mine now. I had two wands. How interesting...

"Ah, but where are my manners? Please, come in." I stood aside. Dumbledore glared, but got up and walked into the room.

"Tom, what have you done?! You've ruined my entire life! Not a single staff member, student, or parent trusts me anymore! Even the everyday wizards, the plebians, are questioning my greatness! Now, my school is filled with Omegas, Alpha's, and Beta's! You fool, what have you done!?" Well, all I need is a Pensieve to ruin him.

"I just told the truth, Albus. After all, the truth is a rather Light concept, isn't it?" I kept my face neutral. He sputtered and started into a rant about the greater good.

Dumbledore was a fraud. Defeating Grindlewald? Fraud. He had simply Cruciated him to insanity. By that point, he was worse than Grindelwald. The original Dark Lord had been terrible, yes, but he knew how to properly evade using the Unforgivable Curses, excepting Imperio, because it was one of his favorites. Of course, Inferi and blah blah blah. All of his academic achievements were usually other geniuses work he had taken credit for.

He had, somehow, managed to erase the knowledge of subspecies and Status from the entire wizarding community. Even the one in America. I would, after this old buffoon finished, figure out how the hell he used his limited intelligence to control the wizarding world.

He ranted so angrily he didn't notice when I pushed him out the door. Or when I locked it. 

Naturally. Not very intelligent...

But he still figured out how to control the world. That was commendable.

Wait. I lurched across the room, digging through my bag until I found a certain book.

A very special book, concerning Gringott's, goblin and house-elf magic, and obscure rituals. Safe to say, it was rather thick but obscure. Probably very illegal.

I flipped to a few dog-eared pages and figured it out.

Of course. He wasn't fucking intelligent, he was a backstabber. He had gained the trust of a goblin, a young one probably, and gained his favor. Only to turn around, tear that goblins arm off, and use it in a ritual to brainwash everyone he so pleased. Blood glamours, trust keys, thought manipulation, even mass hypnosis. All he needed to do was play nice, cut off an arm, read a book, and know what he wanted to do anything. 

However.

I could reverse it...

If I asked the goblins for a complete cleanse...

Though, there would be a side effect and a condition. Goblins were traditionalists. If they wanted something, they could get it. And what they wanted was a bit of voyeurism. In order to get a cleanse, two parties had to show up at an appointed time. Strip. Go into a special room, or 'rooms', rather, and get anointed in magical oils. Then, you are released into a room, where you reunite. The oils burn, then freeze. Then, you feel unbearably... aroused. The goblins are watching, not visible, as you have no choice but to cave in to your true desires. Of course, the cleanse cleans you up so it's the best possible experience.

A hooker, maybe? Or I could-

A knock at my door interrupted that train of thought. I went over to it, expecting to see Dumbledore on the other side.

Instead, I found an angrily smirking Harry Potter, two redheads, and a blonde. Past that was the exotic-looking specimen and Ronald. Harry rapped on the open door, drawing my focus back to him.

"I could have sworn I told you not to run, Marvolo." He said, stepping into the room. The others took that as the cue to disperse, the twin redheads grinning like loons as they dragged the wary blonde behind them. 

"Why were you reading up on this?" I turned around, slowly shutting the door as Harry read the passage with increasing interest.

"Um..." He probably still believed in Dumbledore.

"I'd gladly do this ritual if it means I get to fuck you."

I blinked in surprise at his vulgarity, before flushing. W-wait, what?! I will admit I am decently attractive, and I am his mate, but... Fucking... Me.... Harry smirked, setting the book down and stalking towards me with the air of a predator. What scared me was the fact that that meant I was the prey. "Actually, what d'you say we go right now?"


	4. Ritual Expectations and Goblins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is not at all prepared.
> 
> Harry is too eager.

Harry practically dragged me down Diagon, drawing strange looks as he all but flew through the three doors of Gringotts. It never stopped being magnificent, white marble and gold accents, ancient and powerful. Not alive, in the sense of Hogwarts, but the magic thrummed throughout the building, ancient and infinite. Like the goblins.

The walk was slow, as the goblins greeted us, and there were all sorts of formalities to express. We finally made it up to the desk, grabbing his attention despite his efforts to ignore us as much as possible.

"Lord Riddle. What brings you here today?" The head goblin, clearly annoyed, asked dryly. We had interrupted his tedious work, making it last longer than it had to by disrupting him.

I cleared my throat and summoned the book. The goblin looked over the passage, and a wry grin emerged on his wrinkled features. Pervert.

"Of course, My Lords. Please follow me." He stepped down, leading the way down a side corridor, unassuming at best. Stone, crests older than wizardkind, torches that burned with the hottest Fiendfyre. The goblin knocked on the door in some intricate pattern, and it opened instantly. 

"Ragnok, Lord Riddle is here to see you." He said.

"Alright. May your gold overflow." The goblin left. I strode into the room, taking it in as fast as I could. Three more doors, a desk, bookcases framing the doors we just came through filled with priceless artifacts, and a goblin.

A powerful goblin. The magic swirled around the room, prying at my core. The goblin might seem like a bumbling fool, but he was deceptive. 

"Master Riddle. This is Master Potter, I presume?" He said airily, fingers touching as he contemplated our visage.

"Yes, Ragnok." Lord? Master? Sir? I didn't recall, but he didn't seem offended.

"And you are here for..." He waved his hand vaguely. Most goblins would have said it dryly, enjoying watching the weak-willed humans squirm from the filth exiting the goblin's mouth.

More polite than other goblins, certainly. But he acted strangely, probably because I descended from the Slytherin House. I was, essentially, Lord Slytherin.

That was a thought. He was explaining until he realized we just wanted to get it over with. He cleared his throat, awkward, and sat professionally in his chair like he hadn't been rambling just a moment ago. He

"Alpha Left, Omega Right, Beta Center." He pointed.

I was ashamed to walk to the right door. Harry swaggered his way over to the left one,

I entered the room. It was empty, but the magic was suffocating. It struck me, rather like a cobra, sinking its fangs into my core and sucking out all the unnecessary enchantments and cleaning my skin, my hair, my entire being. I was perfectly sterile.

The room whirled, merging and clashing dangerously. It was almost like a storm, but it started and stopped too suddenly for that.

Harry was in this new room. There was a huge bed, a crackling fireplace, dim lights, and a tantalizing scent in the air. There was also a nightstand with a note on it. Comfortable, really.

" _Consummate to finish the ritual._."

Oh, fuck.

Harry grabbed my arm, spinning me around. He held me there, staring into my eyes, searching for something. Consent, desire, or something else? I didn't know. But he found it, leaning forward to capture me in a searing kiss that had me whining, unwillingly, into his too-possessive mouth.

Avada. Kedavra. Was the first thought that entered my mind as I opened my eyes. Had I not noticed before?

He walked me backwards, my knees bumping against the bed as I fell back. He lowered me slowly, carrying my weight, and it made my Omega preen. Look how strong our mate is. Look how perfect he is.

Feel how much he wants to claim you. Pressed against me, the lack of clothes was becoming apparent. Slick was dripping down my thighs, embarrassingly enough. Though Harry seemed to like it well enough...

"You'll never run again." He growled. Snarled, like it was a lesson that had worked before.

He saw my skeptic expression, and hauled me up into his arms, tossing me onto the bed like I weighed nothing. Fucking archangels.

"You're _mine_. I _will_ make you see that, even if I have to fuck you till you cry." He sounded too angry. For my discretions, anyway.

"Open wide, baby." He shifted in an instant. I complied.

He jumped onto the bed, making me bounce, and he fucking laughed. The fucking asshole laughed, because he bounced me off of this perfect mattress with velvet and silk and perfection.

"Er, a condom?" I asked, cursing my blush. He frowned.

"Why?" I gave him an 'are you serious' look.

"What?!" He asked, throwing his hands out wide, and _why was he ripped_?!

"I'm an-an _Omega_!" I sputtered. He smirked, crawling up to loom over me, pressing kisses to my jaw and up to my ear.

"So?"

I took a deep breath. Composure, composed-

Harry sank his teeth into the junction between my neck and shoulder.

A breathy whine, so unlike me, filled the room. Harry smirked, the little shit, and started laving the wound with kisses. Not a true mating bite, not yet. The thought made me shiver, not going unnoticed by Harry. He grabbed my knees, forcing them apart. He stared, looking a bit awed, and I looked down, embarrassed and surprisingly insecure. I looked away, my face burning as I realized he was just staring at my...

This was so much more difficult than it had to be. Than it _should_ be.

He interrupted my thought process by diving in, tongue lapping up the slick I exuded, muttering about how good it tasted, how sweet I was. How good I was for him, though I'd done absolutely nothing. He moved back up, kissing me and making me taste myself. I felt a hint of disgust, but that was swept out by Harry's somewhat disturbingly talented kissing. It melted my mind. It distracted me so much I didn't realize he was, well, fingering me. Two, by the time I realized. I faltered, making him pull back.

Which left me room to let out stupid noises. Moans and whimpers, sounding like a dumb little bitch. A fucking whine, when he added a third. He was red, which left me a little relief. I wasn't the only one affected. I wasn't the only one...

Harry kissed me again. Feverishly, or perhaps to try and distract me from the feeling of his fingers leaving me. Wet noises. The feeling of the head of his cock resting at my entrance, sliding inside. I moaned, muffled, as he slid into me. It was everything I had ever fantasized about and more. He panted, adjusting his grip on my thighs, palms warm. His fingers dug into the skin there as he pulled back, eyes eating me up like I was his favorite dessert.

If I wasn't blushing before, I definitely was now. He loosened his grip, one finger coming up to pinch and roll one of my nipples until it was hard and red, doing the same to the other. I twitched slightly.

Without a warning, he pulled back, until barely the tip of his cock remained inside of me. He slammed back inside, hands gripping my thighs as he set a brutal pace that made me moan. I practically screamed when he found my prostate, making him smirk cruelly as he angled his hips, driving me louder and louder as I went higher and higher, tension climbing as I fought back the urge to come. He groaned, whispering to himself as he stared at me, fucked me, _ruined me_. I moaned, whimpered, whined. Bucked up, though his grip was too tight to grant me much room to move. I begged.

"Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" I gasped, my vision blurring slightly. I clenched around him, moaning like a bitch in heat, the orgasm fading out as Harry paused. I was sticky, whiteness over my stomach and his.

Then he started moving again. I whimpered from oversensitivity, but my cock was started to stir. Growing because he was my mate, and I wanted to please him. He jumped my hips up, nestling himself deep, as he came down to my neck to suck bruises into my pale, silky smooth skin. I knew that because I was vain as fuck.

It went on for a while until he suddenly pulled out. Before I could protest, he flipped me onto my hands and knees and drove back inside. A hand buried in my hair, tilting my head and making my back arch obscenely. The slap of skin on skin, the sheets bunching beneath us, the feeling of his cock pushing against my walls. The praises, the curses, the moans. The way he somehow fucked out the lewdest noises, ones I didn't even know I could make.

The hand in my hair disappeared, before it suddenly wrapped around my cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. I whined, and he dropped down, pressing kisses to the back of my neck, before completely pulling away. I whimpered, forcing myself onto my knees so I could look at him. He had laid down, head resting on the pillows as he lazily stroked himself. 

And, really, his cock was a thing of... well, I really wanted it back inside of me.

"Well? Get over here." He said sternly. I did, internally rolling my eyes at the way a shiver went down my spine and a new wave of slick spilled down the inside of my thighs.

He manhandled me so I was straddling him. His idea was obvious, so I didn't bother waiting for his orders. I grabbed him, positioned us accordingly, and slipped down. It was easy, and I let out a too-breathy moan when our hips met. I slid up, down, up, until I finally found the perfect rhythm. Riding him, hands splayed over his chest. I found my prostate quickly enough, angling and moaning and watching him fall apart. Twisting one of his nipples, teasing him, leaning down to kiss him, nip at his jaw. I was in control, and I loved it.

Until he pulled me down, sinking his teeth into my neck. It broke the skin, but a feeling of pure euphoria spread through me. My hips stuttered as I came for the second time. I vaguely registered Harry coming with a possessive growl. His knot swelling, slipping inside of me, connecting us.

I slumped forward, the strength leaving me as I passed out, exhausted.

-hopefully this makes up for the wait. i'm so sorry-


	5. Dumbledore Takes A Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore makes a desperate choice.
> 
> Oh, and this turns into a PJO crossover.

When I woke up, I wasn't in the cozy Gringotts mating room. I was in a huge bed, yes, but it was more ornate. More special, ancient, rich. Not something Gringotts would supply without a huge fee that Harry Potter would probably not be able to pay. I would, though. If I took an Inheritance test... I examined the bed I was currently occupying, finding it to be far more than I had previously assumed.

Silk. Embroidered pillows made with some obscure magical creatures fur, diamonds on the corners. Sheets that practically even smelled expensive. I sat up, wincing slightly at the throbbing in my backside, unwilling to delve into the possible cause of that. I was alone, surprisingly, and the air was not permeated by any sounds that would indicate otherwise. I swung my legs over the side and went about methodically dressing in the surprisingly fitting clothes to be found in the decorated wardrobe. Impeccable. The uniform perfection was a relief. A silk shirt, one I had not seen since I had 'come back', black trousers and fine black dragonhide boots. A black belt, also made out of dragon hide with silver engravings and a modest kyanite clasp, one of majorly green, with flashes of deep purple, blues, and a hint of gold. It was charmed to allow the wearer to never lose it. It also had a wand holster that I managed to cram both wands in.

I gathered the rest of my scant belongings, the clothes I had been wearing before, in a shoulder bag and left the room. It appeared I was at the Black residence, allowing me to easily navigate it's halls, even in its fall from grace. I did not hesitate, slipping out of the house, past the Apparition wards, and Disapparated with a crack. To my room in the Leaky Cauldron, where I finished packing and attempted to remove the collar. It failed, but I left anyway, though I was more than a little peeved about the lack of information I was getting. Why was this so difficult?

Where would I go next? To the arched caverns of the underground? To the mystical, cloak-and-dagger halls of the Ministry? To the magnificent, misleading house of Hogwarts? Where would nobody expect me to go? The underground, that was a definite no. To the Ministry? No, his best friend was the Minister. Hogwarts it is, apparently. I did not wish to go there, but I knew enough construction and deception spells to safely live in the forest...

With Dumbledores permission. Confounding him would do the trick, yes? With that goal in mind, I set out down the streets of London. The new technology never ceased to amaze me. Instead of watches, people relied on small plastic squares filled with hundreds of intricate wires and a battery, powered by electricity and 'codes' to get the time of day or their other information. To share it. Entertainment, as well.

It was strange. And immensely useful, though it seemed to be slowly eating away at the prowess and integrity of the human race, Muggles in particular. Wizards already relied too much on their magic. But, that was an issue for another day. Today, I was to find Hogwarts once again, on foot, and set up residency in the Forbidden Forest, where no one dares visit.

Eventually, I Apparated to the surrounding land, using the magical signature of the castle to locate it, walk over the bridge.

Magnificent. Terrifying. The silence was eerie. Well, it would be, until I heard it.

Snarls. Alpha snarls. Someone was challenging an Alpha. Possibly another Alpha? I pushed it to the back of my mind as I continued, up to the great castle doors. Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times. They swung open, revealing a frozen student body. I gave them a polite nod, before sweeping past them with the air of a king. Up staircases, ignoring that one false step and switching as I navigated the corridors like a pro. Which I was, by the way. It took three guesses to open the door, the gargoyle rolling his eyes every time I got it wrong. I jogged up the steps, stopping to rearrange myself before entering the lair of the beast.

A pathetic beast. Dumbledore was ancient, using only his goddamn twinkle to fool others into thinking he was dangerous. Intelligent. Infinitely powerful.

A liar, the only true thing about him.

He stared at me in shock, before a cruel smirk twisted his features. He stood from his desk, walking around it as all his little trinkets sped up with the rage emanating from their master. He stopped, in front of me, and opened his mouth.

"You've ruined me... Now it is time for you to pay the price, _Tom Potter_." He whipped his wand out, and sped up the spell. " _Avadakedavra_!"

I fell back. My vision went dark as, finally, Tom Riddle died.

-

Far away, Harry Potter was humming a tune as he carried a perfect breakfast up for his lover. Before he could reach the top stair, a sharp bolt of pain went through his chest. He collapsed with a ground, clutching his heart. Deep in his chest, he knew what had happened.

He screamed. In anger, pain, sorrow. He slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the plaster, but even that didn't distract him from the pain. The agony. His mate was _gone_. That realization broke something in him.

He felt his magic surge, It whipped around him, tugging at the strings of the magical world until he crashed through wards ad spells, destroying rock and magic alike as He appeared in Dumbledores office. His mate was slumped on the floor, Dumbledore hunched over him as he lotted his precious mate's body. Harry sent him flying with a flick of his wrist, though not before retrieving his wand. He crumpled to his knees, cradling Tom's body as he wept. Heart-wrenching, guttural sobs, and with hem, he wailed his pain to the wizarding world.

Time snapped. Magic curled and writhed, as Harry's eyes glowed gold and he summoned them. He summoned them, and he did not regret it. The three Deathly Hallows united, into a shimmering wand. The invisibility cloak a sheen over it, the handle, the stone at the base, the Elder wand connecting them. He summoned Death itself to the room.

"Well, that's rather unexpected." Confused by the odd accent, he turned.

The man was beautiful. Artful black wings, engulfing the room in shadow and terror, exposed chest bronzed and toned, eyes darker than night with matching hair that flowed past his shoulders. He held a scythe, deadly and sharp. Souls whipped across it, varying from relieved to terrified. Harry turned to him. Sinner and saint, all wrapped into one venomous package.

"Well. It seems I have a master." Death mused. His voice echoed, both loud and quiet, but Harry heard it nonetheless. 

"I won't bring back your lover." He interrupted sharply, just as he opened his mouth to order the man to awaken Tom. He'd kill to see his eyes flutter open.

"But you won't accept that, will you? Immortal and all-powerful, but that's just not enough, is it? You want your lover at your side. Tell you what; I'll do you one better." The mans' wings curled in on him, and his scythe melted into nothing. The man crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, too casual for the situation.

Death smirked, a terrifyingly beautiful gesture.

"I'll send you back if you want. With whomever you want. Summon me when you make that choice." He gave him a mock salute, pretending to go down the tower but instead just disappearing from whence he came.

Harry screamed, punching the wall until his knuckles were bloody and broken. Little did he know, a pair of bright green wings, iridescent almost, stretched behind him the wind whipped at his command, the weather echoing his fury as it tore at the castle. Students stared and whispered, in awe and fear, at the man who had overthrown the headmaster and become the Master of Death. He turned to his mate, beautiful and dead. A sharp pain echoed through his very soul. He turned, looking for the cause. Dumbledore whooshed over to him, terrified. Harry let out an angry yell, as he easily snapped the man's frail neck and tossed him off the tower once belonging to him.

He left. Disapparating, summoning those he would definitely be bringing back.

Draco Malfoy, an unlikely friend.

Fred and George Weasely, some of the only good Weaselys.

Ron Weasely, his best friend.

Blaise Zabini, a resourceful man who was loyal to those he deemed worthy.

Luna Lovegood.

Neville Longbottom.

Hermione Granger.

They attracted Harry's magic as he summoned them and Death, into an eclipsing wave of magic as all of them disappeared back in time...

To their first years at Hogwarts.


	6. Past As They Realize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They awaken in a carriage in their own bodies, rage simmering in their hearts...
> 
> Dumbledore won't know what hit him.

Harry blinked his eyes open tiredly. He glanced around, sitting up quickly as he realized he was in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. He stood up, overestimating his strength and height and going off balance, collapsing onto his seat. The noise awoke the others sleeping in the enclosed space.

They too looked surprised. Draco, Fred, George, Ron, Zabini, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. All freaking out in their own separate ways.

"What in bloody fucking hell-?1" Draco.

"Harry?!" The twins, in unison.. of course.

"Mate, what-?!" Ron.

Zabini and Luna were silent, though Zabini seemed more in shock than Luna's serene countenance. Neville was unintelligible, sputtering out unintelligible noises that could've been curses. Hermione was speculating. I looked around, catching their eyes. They went silent.

"So, I'm guessing you brought us here?" Hermione put it together quickly. Tom was dead... because why else wouldn't he be here, or why else would _we_ be here? 

"Wait. You had a Time-Turner..? No, we wouldn't be in our old bodies... You must have used old magic, maybe even Dark, but you don't have any marks anywhere and..." She went silent.

"You're the Master of Death." She concluded. The silence was deafening.

"Wait, so you can bring people back from the dead?!" Ron looked creeped out. I couldn't really blame him, even if it was a bit rude. Dead things were the man's domain, no need to look so grossed out.

"No, he said he wouldn't do that. I went back and I'm going to save him." He declared.

"So, what exactly happened..?" Neville asked, brow furrowing.

"Dumbledore killed him for exposing him. He's not a great Wizard... he's a coward, a liar, and a murderer..." Harry seethed. That blasted old coot! He'd fucking pay for doing this to Tom. Smart Tom. Proud Tom. Tom, who took control... Harry blushed. Stupid thoughts. He watched as they shifted uncomfortably.

"Do we have the Trace on us? We don't have any luggage or supplies." Luna piped up, not looking even the slightest bit concerned.

"I don't think so. They can't really tell even if we do, right?" Harry frowned. They would need their stuff, wouldn't they?

"Wait, how are we all fitting in this compartment? There are 9 of us." Hermione swiveled her head, looking confused. She looked so different, with her bushy hair and buck teeth... I had forgotten how much we'd changed. I turned, observing the rest of the carriage, admiring our newfound youth and how it changed us.

Fred and George were older than us, so it was Time Travel..? I guess... I looked around taking in our younger appearances. I snorted. Ron never stopped being lanky as balls, Zabini had apparently always been beautiful, Draco had silver hair and a sharp face since always, Luna...

Wasn't supposed to be here?! Why was she here?! I stared wide-eyed at her, shocked. She blinked at me owlishly, before realization crossed her features.

"I guess he aged me up so I could be here with you. It will go unnoticed... nobody ever noticed my age before.." She looked a bit crestfallen.

"We noticed!" I assured her. She gave me her slightly empty smile, and I knew she wasn't really torn up about it. 

"So... what's the plan?" Fred asked. I think it was him, anyway, they were harder to tell apart when they both had their ears. 

"Make Dumbledore's life hell, and get Tom back," I said without thinking. Th

"We can get behind that." One of the twins said, the other grinning evilly as they started plotting in Hermione brightened.

"I can try and learn more in the school library!" She said excitedly.

"I thought you'd read it all!" Ron exclaimed. He looked genuinely surprised.

I sighed, realizing that this time around, Hogwarts would be different. Mainly because we weren't lying to ourselves. Ron knew he was gay. Neville knew he was bi. The twins were starting their advances on Draco... Blaise had gotten Ron to acknowledge his attraction towards the exotic-looking wizard. Even if he was far away from confessing... He knew.

It would definitely be a shock. We had been awakened to our natures, even in another life, and we knew he'd lied to us.

I smirked.

This year, I would get my plan in motion... and tear Dumbledore to the ground, in agonizing, humiliating pieces, make him regret he'd ever even heard the name 'Tom Riddle'.

With that thought in the back of his mind, I spent the rest of my trip to Hogwarts joking with the twins, teasing Ron, watching as Hermione and Luna quietly spoke of things nobody else could hear. Draco and Neville were in their own place, and Blaise continued to flirt with Ron, somehow making his face redder than his flaming hair.

It distracted me for the journey to Hogwarts, the full wight of their purpose here not settling in. Shock, if you will, for how else would they not be breaking? I sighed, leaning back to stare out the window at the shadowy scenery as it whizzed by.

-

Voldemort clutched his head, screaming in agony as his very foundations ruptured. Death Eaters around the room watched in horror as their beloved leader melted, white skin glowing with sweat as he screamed his pain to the deepest pits of Hell. He looked up, snake nose twitching as he bellowed.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!" The followers hastened to comply, fleeing into the shadows. Only his two most loyal followers remained, Severus and Lucius. He bared his teeth at them, snarling like a rabid dog.

"Do you require assistance, my lord?" Severus drawled. He looked so different without his glamour on... smooth black hair, finer than silk, smooth alabaster skin and a delicate, regal face with baleful black eyes. His apparent pudgy physique was not present, instead, he was sporting a leanly muscular body. He was unrecognizable.

"No, you bloody fools!! LEAVE ME!!!" He roared.

They bowed and swept away, cloaks billowing as they elegantly left the room.

Lord Voldemort was not sure what had just happened, but he knew for certain that the new voice plaguing his thoughts changed everything.

-I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! I've gotten better!! I can write! My writing block is gone, and you bet your asses I'm going on a writing marathon!!!!!!-


	7. The Very Confusing Second Beginning

Harry looked around at the Hogwarts castle, trying his best to seem awed as they all got in their canoes.

The way across the lake was calm, beautiful, and quite serene. It almost calmed him down from the ecstasy drumming through his veins. He excitedly walked up to the castle, schooling his features into a nervous but awed look. His friends split up, Fred and George had long abandoned them, making sure that it went according to plan. Dumbledor couldn't think he'd failed until the time when Draco would be offering his hand, and Harry would 'convince' him that prejudice wasn't right. It was almost laughable how depressed he looked, surrounded by sluts and prudes and dunces. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all stood, speaking quietly, almost as if he was being told the 'wonders' of the magical world. In reality, they were rehashing their plot.

They were led to the room, given a dramatic reveal of the ghosts, Led into the Great Hall, and it took everything in Harry's power to not blast the Headmasters fucking head off his shoulders from where he sat, upon his throne of lies and broken souls. Hm. How poetic.

Harry followed, watching as the students got sorted. It came upon Hermione's turn. Slytherin. Luna. Ravenclaw. Malfoy. Ravenclaw. 

It was his turn, not too far after.

"Potter, Harry." A hush fell over the Hall as he strode up, not an ounce of nerves in his step as he confidently sat upon the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, and he waited.

_Ah, another one. How many of you came back in time?_

Not many, he thought.

 _Well, it seems that you aren't under the spells you were under last time, so I can judge you properly... though it's fairly obvious where you're going this time around._ The Hat sounded smug.

"SLYTHERIN!!!!!" It roared, for purely dramatic effect.

A deathly silence filled the Hall as Harry immediately walked over to the table on the far left, taking a seat in the empty area with Hermione. Nobody moved towards him, unsure of his social standing, and he was fine with that. By the time Ron and Blaise joined him, he had gathered a few followers. Most people after his fame and Blaise's standing,

It was laughable, the strained smile on Dumbledore's face and his thinly veiled outrage, Something had gone wrong. Very, very wrong. 

He would get to the bottom of it! He would find what had happened to his precious Golden Boy and fix it.

Harry shouldn't be in Slytherin. He shouldn't have become friends with Blaise. Draco Malfoy shouldn't be in Ravenclaw. It was salvageable, but his plans would crumble if it went any farther. He sighed, stroking his beard as he enjoyed his lamb and potatoes, some delicious red wine washing it down nicely.

-

Harry was surprised at the elaborately protected Slytherin rooms. Every room required a password, free speaking was not permitted, and there was a strict social stigma of associating with Gryffindors.

He had a single roommate, Blaise, and he was shocked to find that it was separated by a screen and powerful silencing charms. Clearly, it wasn't that weird, but it was more private than the Gryffindor common rooms. Blaise left him to his own devices, likely to fantasize about a certain redhead with 'legs miles long' and 'an arse that could kill a man'. Both exact quotes. Harry chuckled, before grimacing at his pre-pubescent voice. He showered, made plans to work out because this was just pathetic, really.

He sighed, after finishing his routine and getting into bed, wishing his mate was curled under him... soft black hair and beautiful ruby eyes...

He rolled onto his back, reliving their first and only time together. He remembered how he had flipped them over, riding him like he'd done it a million times, looking so happy to be in control. A fleeting fantasy of being bound, letting his Omega torture him with sinfully sensual pleasures made his face redden.

It would be a long night,

-okay, onto the next book! any suggestions?-


	8. It Hurts... But Why?

Voldemort discovered that many things were wrong. It seemed... too strange. Too insane, even after all he'd done. Or maybe not even him? Somebody had done. He was having what some might call an 'identity crisis'. He wasn't Tom Marvolo Riddle. He wasn't even human. He was a bunch of magic cooked up by a madman! It felt... miserable. Terrible. He was so confused. He hadn't left his chambers in days, instead staying and listening to the ramblings of his real self. Or just himself, or just him, because _he wasn't fucking real_. He cried. He screamed. He raged. He listened though, and his hatred for Dumbledore increased tenfold. Of course, the old coot would do this. Of course... He developed plans.

He wasn't fucking real. But his powers will, even if they were apparently flawed. As long as he didn't encounter Harry- he'd spoken as well, of course- and he had his own personal... or was he just a vesse- it didn't matter, did it? He'd die. 

He'd die. He'd cease to exist. Even if his existence wasn't his. Even if he was just a figment... That was beside the point. Now, to change his plans from Harry to Dumbledore. He had always had an innate fear of the man, and it made sense now... Even if it was still there, it was inconsequential. He'd have to play the long game. 

He deftly manipulated his henchman, easing them off of watching Harry's house one man at a time until they didn't notice when it ended. Focused more on research. Dumbledore. Attacks. Displays of power that were infallible, instead of inevitable losses at Hogwarts. Establish their reputation and plant seeds in people's minds. Their ranks swelled. It was a blessing that the real him had woken up.

He was currently sat upon his gaudy throne. Looking around as if he had never been there before. Marvolo, as he was apparently known, had never seen it. He watched as his followers, his 'Death Eaters', gave reports. It used to give him a thrill. A power rush? It did, at one point, feel like he was amazing, a kind, a god. Now? It was boring, pointless, and downright embarrassing. He'd have to fix that...

Voldemort stood from his throne, glaring down at the befuddling bitch who dared try and speak about such mundane things as _family emotional difficulties_.

"From now on, I order you to give me written reports. This is too dull for words. Now, out of my sight." He said, in a far snootier voice than he wanted. They left him alone, allowing him to continue to brood.

This was...this situation must be amended.

-  
Harry was surprised when his first year went off without a hitch. Of course, heavily hinted Sorcerors Stone plan, many attempted hiccups along his journey. Of course, it was a much easier year and he even got a few laughs about it. He aced his classes, as did everyone, and it was nice to be praised for once. Nice to see Snape's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and award points to Slytherin- not that he needed much persuasion. He loved McGonnogals pursed smiles, Flitwicks exuberance, Hagrids joyful drunkness, Sprout's bubbly reactions.

What he didn't love was his teenaged existence. It paled in comparison to his normal body. He hated it. Absolutely fucking hated it. He hated not having his Omega, as unconventional as he apparently was. He cried days after days, nights after nights, he wept because even if they didn't have time together, even if they only had one brief moment, even if he fought him every step of the way... he missed him. He had heard stories of the old Tom. It was terrible, designed to set up his hatred for the man, but he managed to pick out truths. Tom was a bookish, charming character. He used his charm and his skills with deceit to get anything he wanted. His mind was sharper than Hermione, his friends were selected to better his plans, obscure as they may be.

While he had been with Harry, he hadn't been like that. Maybe it was shocking. Maybe it was the mating bond. Whatever it was, he hadn't experienced the pure genius he apparently was. 

He wanted to. He wanted to watch him dance around with words, destroying people and their defenses so minutely they didn't even realize until it was too late. He wanted to see him. Feel him. Explore him. He wanted everything.

But he couldn't have him. He didn't know how to undo the spell. He didn't know what to do, because Voldemort hadn't attacked him at all. He hadn't found any books and didn't know how to get them. He had started with intent but without any real plans. The grandiose plots in the carriage when they first came didn't count. They were pipe dreams. Ridiculous, foolish, stupid. All accurate descriptions.

He slammed his fist into the post of his bed, angered further when it barely shook. Fuck, he was so _weak_. He hated it. Hated it so much, he decided he'd request Hermione to make him a potion to fix it...He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was towards the end of the year, and he was already dreading the trip back to his... He didn't have to go back.

Harry didn't have to go back. He could leave, Go to Gringotts, get his inheritance and all sorts of tests and such and fix him. Maybe give him his strength back, even if he had to keep this pitiful appearance.

He flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Watching as time went by, even as he tried to sleep. Eventually giving up and cracking open a few select books he had bought from Knockturn over Christmas break, which he had spent at the Grangers. He pored over scratchy writing and cursed tomes, looking for something, anything to help him. It seemed hopeless. 

Until, at the crack of dawn, in a note scribbled in the margins, barely intelligible, was a book title. The passage had been on rituals... soul rituals. Why they were important forms of magic.

'A Booke On All Soul Rituals, Their Process, and Their Creators' by some guy named Uric. He breathed a sigh of relief, frantically writing the title in a letter to Malfoy. Draco? Malfoy. Definitely Malfoy.

He laid back, books strewn haphazardly around him, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

-

Dumbledore seethed, staring in grotesque fury at the shriveled hand kept in the pocket of his robe. It should have rendered this impossible! Not only had Harry not even investigated the obvious hints about the Stone, Voldemort hadn't attacked! Not even once! He was sure that the news of the Stone would have drawn him to Hogwarts, even hiring Quirrel, knowing he would become the vessel for him after he had died, but according to reports, he hadn't been vaporized? He didn't even _need_ a vessel?! What happened? The spell surely should have reduced him to a husk of his former glory, but how, oh how, he'd regained his entire network, set several attacks, had drawn several people from his grasp, and how?!

It was going all wrong! Next thing he'd hear, it'd be Severus turning him over to the Ministry and Trelawney making a valid prophecy at lunch!

He scowled. No, no, his genius would not fail him. He stroked the hand, smirking slightly. Oh, he knew what to do. He'd finish it simply, concisely. Harry was still a boy, after all. He didn't know the full extent of his prowess.

Dumbledore could still win. It was all a game, one the boy could not know how to play yet. Hee was but 11, a faction of the great wisdom Dumbledore possessed. He stroked his beard, a cruel grin breaking out over his gnarled features as a plan unfolded, a foolproof one, in his mind.

\- 

Death sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Humans were fucking stupid.

-meh. it's filler, but Friday was national writing day, so i had to do somethiiiiing. i've abandoned this story for so long, i haven't even figured out or remembered how i want this story to go. -.--


	9. Dumbledore, You're Not Infallible

Second Year. The Chamber of Secrets, Professor Lockhart. It wasn't a good year, Harry remembered. It went as predicted. Ginny was given the book.

But this time around, she gave it to Harry, who wrote to his soulmate gleefully. Trying to find out more about his soulmate. He liked chocolate and lemon. His favorite creature was the Basilisk. He loved snakes, thought they were beautiful. He'd often spend hours conversing with snakes around Hogwarts and it's grounds. He hated the orphanage and felt very lonely at Hogwarts despite having so many friends. His charms were disgusting, he thought, the way witches and wizards fell at the feet of a mere schoolboy. Though so easy to manipulate. Slughorn especially. A flutter of lashes and a few well-placed, believable compliments, and he'd give him anything.

Harry added Slughorn to his revenge list.

School was easy, especially since this time around he actually paid attention instead of leeching off of Hermione. After experiencing the 8th year, the copious amounts of notes were no longer intimidating. McGonagal was pleased by this. He felt satisfaction at Snape's frustration, and Dumbledores fury as his plans once again came up fruitless. By the time the end of 2nd year came about, Harry was left happy once again. He spoke to this Tom Riddle every day, careful to not let it suck the soul out of him. 

By the time he got onto the train, he'd all but forgotten about the book he'd sent Malfoy after until the blonde was barging into his compartment and dumping it into his lap. Harry eagerly flipped through it, searching for the correct chapter. He found it.

'How to Reverse the Horcrux Ritual'. In a loopy font that reminded him too much of Dumbledores. His eyes roved over the words, snagging on an ingredients list. He summoned some parchment, scribbling down every substance exactly as it was written. He handed it to one of the twins, who grinned as he looked over the list. They left, no doubt to go find their blonde boy.

Harry continued reading, absorbing information, getting another parchment to write down the steps of the ritual. He spent the train ride doing this, threatening the Dursleys with my indifference to expulsion and locking myself in my room, Summoning food from where Rond wood put it on his windowsill. He spent the summer consulting Death. Death confirmed that the ritual would work. All that left was to gather the materials and Voldemort. 

Harry spent his days trying to build up the physique he had before he had gone back to the reedy little 11-year-old body, but there wasn't much he could do. He ate enough, though, and began to fill out. When that became boring, he went to Gringotts, booking an appointment to get any spells he had left off of him. There was a block on his intelligence and his magic, and a few broken messes that had been loyalty and compliance spells. These were dealt with swiftly, leaving him to boredom once again. So, he began looking into Wizarding culture. However, the summer doesn't last forever. He only made it through a few books before it was time to get on that train again, a signature threatened from the trembling hands of his uncle clutched in his hands. He was excited for Honeydukes. Hogsmeade in general.

He met up with Ron and Hermione on the train once again. Another ride to Hogwarts, comfortable silence wrapping them in a cocoon fostered from revenge.

-

Voldemort was concerned. The Light hadn't shown this much movement for the entirety of the war. And despite clear effort to prevent it, he could see enough of a pattern to move his troops out of the way of the sweeping gaze of The Order. His operation sank its claws into the Ministry, preventing them from being prosecuted. He made sure his ministrations were subtle enough that it went unnoticed until it was too late.

He relaxed, reading books by the firelight with a glass of wine. Worked on his unseemly visage. He was pale, starved, and disfigured. The nose was only temporary. As he gathered Horcruxes, the proximity to his soul emended his snake-like appearance. He was still pale. He was still bald. But his nose was reemerging. His eyebrows were growing back. He spent his days reacquainting himself with the idea of death. He would die. Soon, probably.

He moved throughout Britain, but it was languid, a placid takeover. His Death Eaters no longer raped and pillaged like savages, instead pulling strings of their adversaries like puppets.

It was far superior than to lose their intelligence and poise. Voldemort was pleased, able to fulfill his goal, all while taking the high road.

-

Dumbledore seethed. He raged. He cried.

How could this happen?

What deity had he displeased?

-

Death smirked.

Finally.


	10. Trip To The Past

With the stories of the past, contemplating with an almost identical version of himself, he forced himself to relive his miserable past. Stories of the orphanage, buried so deep inside him it took spells to dredge it up from his subconscious.

Whips tearing his flesh. Dunked in holy water, hours and hours spent under the altar, chained to the wall, being preached to. Blood, tears, sweat. Ever lash laving at his flesh unhealed, forced to scar painfully against his skin. Tearing his hair out, brands pressed against his skin, up to his thighs and over his back. Holy salt pressed into raw flesh. Blood draining onto the floor. Forced to drink it, mixed with more holy water.

Hours of depravity. Once he had started to 'develop', the touch-starved priests took their due. Of course, that didn't mean the torture had to stop. When he was sent home, he was forced to clean, fold, babysit these pathetic creatures who had forsaken him so. Muggles were cruel, stupid, filthy animals. His hatred festered over time until he couldn't hold back.

He slew the priests. Made it look like a heart attack. However, nobody could fool that bitch. A new church, equipped with toxins to maximize his pain, paralyze him. Dumbledore, the old bastard, refused to raise a finger, saying it was normal, normal for the muggles to find something new and pull at its legs, poke its eyes, rip its skin because they didn't understand it. A healing potion and he was sent on his way, back to that hellhole...

Voldemort seethed. He slew an orphanage, a small one, a house fire to hide the evidence. Bodies churned and burn to be unrecognizable.

He was not nice. He was not good. He cared not for the screams of small children, for the pleas of simpering adults. for the small girl, clutching her teddy bear, tears slipping down her face. He had watched, the day before, her tease a small boy, much like himself, a Squib by nurture, as his magic lashed out and turned the letters on a sign.

He took the boy, let him do whatever he pleased to the orphanage, watched his magic render flesh from bone, organs flying to paint the walls. Pat him on the back, gave him the attention he had once craved for himself.

Voldemort felt no remorse. Tom, in his mind, felt nothing for these miserable pigs being slaughtered in their beds.

Why should they be good, why should they take the high road, when these muggles, creatures so revered and feared, but protected at the same time, tore and seared everything they didn't, no, _couldn't_ understand?

When they were far worse in their treatment, why should they relent?

He cared not. The small boy's name was Kaleb, with a 'K', as the boy so proudly boasted, odd, mismatched purple and grey eyes that had brought him such ridicule. Small for his age, he was 10 years old, though he looked 8.

He couldn't care less when those same eyes filled with malice at the opportunity to cause such misery. To drink in every scream, whimper, squeal as their bodies distended before their very eyes.

Kaleb was a monster. A Dark Wizard. From some foreign family that hated anything Light, for their sunny shortsightedness. Dumped him on the steps of the orphanage for his uselessness. Maybe to teach him that though Britain boasted their accepting nature, they'd ignore the cries of a small boy, burned and cut for the one thing that made him great, powerful, brilliant.

So easy to take the boy to the doorsteps of his parents, recall the night before in such detail they couldn't help but accept it as fact. The horror in their eyes was delicious. The pain as their small son wrung them out like rags was even sweeter.

He dumped the boy in Diagon Alley with nothing but a money pouch. An owl in which to contact him.

Swept back to his manor, ruminating in this glory, the sick light he cast on Britain as they tried to figure out his motive for destroying a small orphanage, with no great importance, and abduct a Squib.

No doubt only one man knew. Up in his castle walls, reading the Prophet, seething as he realized that Voldemort was indeed operational.

Every thought, every memory, his hatred grew. His fury roared, magic seeping into every room around him, warning anyone stupid enough to come close to his quarters.

-

Dumbledores eyes bulged grotesquely from his head as he examined the papers on the table. 

Harry James Potter was earning Outstandings in every subject. Overall, anyway. He hadn't failed, never gotten anything below an Exceptional. His wandwork was incredible. He didn't even have to speak, already doing magic Wordlessly, occasionally even wandless.

He surpassed Hermione. The teachers were considering letting him skip a year, with how high his marks were. It perplexed Dumbledore. Almost as much as Voldemorts attack on an irrelevant orphanage in a nameless town. Clearly a message of some sort, along with his kidnapping of a Squib boy, Kaleb, a child of some foreign dignitaries.

Voldemorts grip had tightened over Wizarding Britain. He whispered doubt into the minds of Dumbledores' most loyal followers, his support at an all-time low. He was forced to dig into his reserves, forcing out a few 'surprise' shots of him helping selected muggle-born students. It stirred up the loyalty of his followers, enabling him to keep up with his operations. A few compulsions here and there, courtesy of his shriveled hand, kept the public complacent.

-

Harry read of an orphanage burning. Was it Voldemort? The question whispered in the halls.

He knew it was. He recalled last year, it was one of those places. Like the Dursleys, he thought.

-

He didn't know the half of it.


	11. The Revenge of an Unstable Headmaster

Dumbledore plotted. He schemed. He shifted the board, just slightly. A few more compulsions in a few more soups, a revamping of the hostility charm over Slytherin and Gryffindor, a few subtle reminders of his excellence. It seemed to work, but the main targets remained completely unaffected!! So he targeted their food, to no avail. They were slipping out of the personas he'd chosen for them, becoming more bold and individualized, throwing his plans for a loop. Harry, especially, supposed to be meek and frail and magically incompetent, but loyal to a fault.

He had become stronger, more physically able than Dumbledor had anticipated, and his magic was far too strong, and he seemed to not care about any of Dumbledores favoritism or guiding hands. Even Ron Weasley, who he had counted on to plant that seed of worship, had completely defected. Everyone who he had set up to mold the boy from a distance had completely disappointed him. But it was only a matter of time. Hopefully. He'd need to up his game if he wanted it absolute, of course.

He sighed, staring at the swirling silver mist of his Pensive. 

What should he do?

-

Dumbledore stood at the head of the Great Hall, on his gaudy but awe-inspiring podium. He cleared his throat, attracting the attention of every one of his students.

"Students of Hogwarts, today shall be a new beginning at Hogwarts. We shall be introducing a new curriculum at our school in the ancient art of Secondary Genders." A gasp wound through the room, and he was satisfied to see Harry caught off guard.

"This class is mandatory for all years. Your schedules have been adjusted accordingly."

If he couldn't erase Secondary genders, he would capitalize on it. The primal instincts could be used to create stupid and brutish Alphas and weak, frail Omegas. With any luck, Harry would be the latter and he could manipulate him through his Alpha. If not, he could turn him into a simple-minded animal who only answered to him.

Perfect plan.

-

Harry puzzled over Dumbledores motivations. He was clearly trying something, but to erase his entire life's work in a single moment? It was unprecedented.

Hermione was chewing on her lip, wondering what could possibly be going on. She seemed deep in thought, probably going over the ways this would benefit the old bastard. Finally, she lit up.

"He's probably hoping you're an Omega! That way you can be easily manipulated." She snapped her fingers. Harry nodded, connecting the dots a moment later.

"Or an idiotic Alpha." Too bad for Dumbledore, but he was already forming plans for his Omega. And how to fix him.

She nodded, tackling her bag in search of her schedule. Harry did the same, with a little less fervor. He examined it closely, realizing it was his second class of the day. Further conversation revealed that he shared this class with Hermione and Draco, lucky him. He sighed, before digging into his scrambled eggs with great enthusiasm.

-

Voldemort stood in his room, examining his reflection. He had collected his Horcruxes and placed them in the room. Immortality was starting to be less appealing, so he was steeling himself for a trip into the dungeon library. Not sure if it was a good idea yet.

Finally, he swept out, scoffing at the fleeing cloak tails down the halls he passed. He wandered into the dungeons, ignoring Greybacks query as he disappeared down the winding corridors. He opened the iron gates to the library with a cursed word, spat in Parseltongue. They swung open, creaking lightly. He walked in and plucked the book that slid itself out for him. 'Horcruxes: Creation, Destruction, and Restoration'. It was simple, purple, with a deep red splatter on the back and a black pearl embedded in the front. He sank into the ancient armchair. He pried the book open and began reading.

Hours later, he resurfaced. Almost sprinted to his chambers, tossing his robes to the floor in his haste as he arranged the Horcruxes in a crescent shape facing North-Northwest, and began the chant. It was quiet, not regal or magnetic. It was remorseful, soft, cruel, as he took his soul back, watching it stitch itself back into his body before his eyes. It got even harder to keep the chant up as his body was wrought with white-hot pain. He grit his teeth and bore it as it came to a head.

He blacked out.

-

Voldemort awoke. He was seeing through... someone else's eyes. He blinked, stretched a hand in front of his face. It was young, malnourished. He looked around, startling at the sight that greeted him in the mirror. A small child, with mismatched purple and grey eyes. He looked familiar. He waved, almost shocked when the reflection responded in kind. A door opened.

"I have put Kaleb's spirit in his owl. He didn't protest, much. Anyway, how do you feel?" The 'man' looked to be himself, from many years ago, except he had eyes the color of rubies soaked in blood. 

"I'm... alright." I stumbled over a child's tongue, almost wincing at the sound of the high voice that escaped my mouth.

"Alright then. It worked." The 'man' nodded.

"Who are you?" I asked carefully.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Your name is no longer Voldemort, as I find it quite stupid. Come up with something else. Simple, but elegant." Tom said as he adjusted his robes. They seemed to be semiformal, with a wizard hat to boot. 

"How about..." I paused. "Jack. It's as simple as Tom, but has many meanings." He nodded, fixing his hat finally before turning to the newly christened Jack.

"Alright, get ready. I'll expect your arrival at the gates in 20 minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"Hogwarts."

-

20 minutes later, an odd pair set off into the night to see a wizard about a school. They arrived at 1:30 am and knocked precisely on the door. McGonnagal answered, seeing two completely unfamiliar children. One had red eyes, the other a purple and silver set. She opened her mouth slightly.

"Hello, we'd like to transfer to Hogwarts." The eldest asked. He sounded smooth, polite, a hint of sweetness. She immediately complied, leading them to the Headmasters office, pausing to send a Patronus so that a Ministry official would be present. She gave the password and led them into the tower. The ministry official dusted off his poncy robe. Dumbledore was stonefaced and pale as he was forced to accept them, as they spun a tale of an orphanage and recently discovered magic.

Tom sealed the deal with a wink and strode down familiar halls with a sense of power.

-

As soon as the government buffoon left, he slammed his fists onto the table, letting out a scream of anger.

How had he escaped?!?!

He snarled. He roared. He ground his teeth. He calmed down. It was fine. Totally fine. He could handle this.

Right?

-

Harry awoke to the scent of his Omega flooding the Hogwarts corridors.

(Sorry I've been gone, A Bit Of A Problem With My Family. Don't worry, I'm BACK!!!!!!!!!!!)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay? Alright?
> 
> Okay?
> 
> Alright?
> 
> ...
> 
> Okay?


End file.
